


Rounding Third

by Chelle1117



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelle1117/pseuds/Chelle1117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He flexed his fingers, hoping to ease the stinging in his palm.  Fucking Sheppard threw too hard.  He'd been lucky, with the way the ball smacked into his glove, to tag Fernandez out at all.  Plus, he was positive he'd pulled a groin muscle! Yeah, that was permanent ligament damage; he could tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rounding Third

Rodney trotted off the field tugging his mitt off his sore hand. He flexed his fingers, hoping to ease the stinging in his palm. Fucking Sheppard threw too hard. He'd been lucky, with the way the ball smacked into his glove, to tag Fernandez out at all. Plus, he was positive he'd pulled a groin muscle! Yeah, that was permanent ligament damage; he could tell. He stretched his leg out from under him, limping to ease the burden on his tender thigh. At least he'd managed to salvage the game with that double play. Fernandez is a fast son of a bitch, but, luckily Sheppard's throwing arm was faster.

He felt a pat on his ass and glanced over at the behemoth who was his first base coach.

"Great snag, McKay. Way to make a play, buddy," Ronon's gruff voice sent shivers down Rodney's spine.

Ronon Dex was only three years older than him and absolutely beautiful. A fact which never once escaped Rodney's attention, and one which John Sheppard felt no compunction for teasing Rodney about. A graduate of the local community college, Ronon was earning a little extra money as a part-time high school baseball coach before he went off to university. He'd been absolutely terrific for Rodney's game, and he was gonna hate seeing Ronon leave at the end of the season.

"Thanks, man," he said, shaking some blood back into his palm and wincing at the resulting throb. "That ball zinged me."

Ronon frowned, concerned. "You alright?" He reached down to take Rodney's hand and examine his palm, but Rodney snatched it back.

"No! I mean, that's completely unnecessary. I'm fine."

Ronon laughed at him and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Always so proper, McKay," he said, chuckling, and reached for Rodney's hand again.

Rodney knew he didn't fit the typical jock mentality. He only played baseball for the symmetry of it anyway, and because it was the one sport he was actually any good at. He'd tried all the others at some point or another in his school career, but none of those seemed worth his time. Too much running around, throwing balls through hoops or getting buried under mountains of flesh in the name of claiming territory. Baseball, in comparison, was sublime. Point scored by hitting a ball with a certain velocity and trajectory, then rounding a set point of coordinates in order to make a complete circuit. Heaven for Rodney's very ordered and logical brain. Well, that and Sheppard threatened to beat his ass if he didn't play some sport with him. And why disappoint the best friend if one didn't have to.

Again, Rodney moved his arm out of the way of Ronon's grasp. "No, seriously, I'm good, Coach. No problem," he said. The last thing he wanted was prolonged contact with the man who had a knack for driving Rodney around the bend with desire. Of course being eighteen had a lot to do with that, but the fact that Ronon was six and a half feet of perfection with dark dreadlocked hair trailing halfway down his back, dark skin made smooth and glistening by the afternoon heat and sun, and a body built for sex didn't help matters. Hell, just the thought of Ronon holding his hand had Rodney worked up, the jockstrap he wore beginning to bind. He groaned a little.

Ronon glanced up and grinned, teeth flashing bright in his swarthy face. "You sure?" He paused a bit, nodding at McKay. "We could wait. I could check you out in the Coach's office.

Rodney swallowed, a thick lump fighting its way down his throat, because _hello? Ronon Dex checking him out in the coach's office?_ He shook his head. "Uh, why would we, I mean, you want to do that?" _Oh shit oh shit! He knows!_

Ronon chuckled. "Make sure you're okay, is all. Take a look at that palm, and maybe your thigh. Looked like, with that limp, you may have pulled a groin muscle, too."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I guess." _Holy mother of god._

 

After showering and changing into a t-shirt and jeans, Rodney headed toward the Coach's Office. He knocked quietly and heard a muffled, "Come in," from the other side of the door.

He stepped into the office, head down, looking at his feet. "Look, Coach, uh, Ronon. You don't have to - "

Two bare feet stepped into his field of vision, and he snatched his head up to meet Ronon's warm green eyes. "But I _want_ to," Ronon whispered, grasping Rodney's chin in his fingers, lifting his young face. "You have any idea how hard it's been, watching you play. This body, twisting and bending in front of me every. Single. Game. Coming back to this locker room and seeing you shower, knowing you were hard for me the whole time?" Ronon leaned forward and grazed Rodney's lips with his own. "Do you? Do you think, McKay, that I'm made of steel?"

Rodney swallowed as the grip on his chin tightened. "No, sir. I didn't mean..."

"I thought not. Now. Take off your clothes."

"But Coach," he began to protest, then heard the snick of the lock sliding into place.

"What?"

Rodney could only suck in a timid breath.

"Take off your clothes."

He swallowed again, and said, "Yes, sir." He peeled out of the damp t-shirt, embarrassed. He wasn't cut like the rest of the guys on the team. He had a love of the wrong kinds of foods, and no matter how much running and sit ups Sheppard made him do, there was a softness about his body that he hated.

"Nice," Ronon whispered, fingers grazing over Rodney's shame-heated skin.

"Too soft," he said, ducking his head.

"Hm. No." Ronon countered, tilting his head to take in Rodney's blushing skin. "Jeans."

Rodney nodded and his fingers flittered over the button fly on his jeans. He tugged them open, one at a time, not to tease, but in shyness, having difficulty obeying. Ronon may think him nice to look at, but one word didn't change a lifetime of self image issues. He sucked in a fortifying sigh and shoved the jeans roughly down the length of his legs.

"Have always liked your legs, McKay. So thick and strong," Ronon said, matter-of-fact.

At that, he finally looked up to meet Ronon's eyes. "So are you, Coach."

Ronon just smiled. "Undress me."

"Uh, yes, sir." Rodney tentatively wrapped his fingers up in the hem of Ronon's shirt and tugged it from his pants. He pulled it up over Ronon's chest and had to pause. "Think you have to lift your arms, Coach," he said, stymied.

Ronon chuckled again and lifted his arms, his body twisting to help Rodney peel off his shirt. When Rodney's fingers drifted back down to the waistband of his pants, Ronon asked, "You gonna kiss me, boy?"

Rodney startled, amazed. "I hadn't thought-"

"Do it."

Rodney swallowed again, and nodded. He licked his lips, tentatively, and shuddered at the heat that flared in ronon's eyes when he did it. Jerking his head higher, nervous again, he laid his inexperienced lips over Ronon's.

Ronon grunted, a dark and dirty sound. Rodney shivered and opened his mouth over Ronon's bottom lip. Ronon tasted like salt and clay. Rodney thought it strange that he liked the clay taste of his coach better than the salt. He tested the theory with a tiny lick to Ronon's bottom lip. _Definitely like that clay taste_ , he thought to himself, and began kissing Ronon in earnest.

Rough, callused hands grazed over the sensitive skin of Rodney's back, torn and ragged fingernails dug into his flesh. He quivered from his neck to his waist, losing his balance, and clutched Ronon's hips to steady himself. Ronon groaned at the rough grip and thrust his hips into Rodney's hands.

The kiss turned carnal, mouths opening over one another and tongues sliding slick and hot against each other. Ronon pushed him against the cold steel of the door, and insinuated a firm heavy thigh between his legs. Pulling away, eyes almost black with lust, his voice a guttural whisper, Ronon muttered, "Want to fuck you, McKay," then nipped at Rodney's ear lobe, worrying the bit of flesh with an expertise that left him trembling.

"Oh, god."

"Say yes, McKay."

"Yes." There was no way he couldn't.

Ronon grunted and shoved his hips hard into Rodney's. Then he pulled away, and Rodney nearly embarrassed himself by whimpering at the loss. Ronon made quick work of his own clothes, tugging at the laces of his pants and shoving them down over slim hips.

"Yeah." he hurried to help strip Ronon of his last remaining clothes. He dropped to his knees as he pushed Ronon's pants down and off, and stared at the cock right there in front of his face. It was so close, Rodney just had to turn his face a tiny fraction of an inch, and the moist head was lying against his cheek. There was a tiny pearl of almost clear fluid on the end of it, and Rodney dragged his face back, turning and opening his lips to taste it. It was salty, sticky, and not terrible, so he leaned in again and took Ronon's cock fully into his mouth.

The echo of a hissed indrawn breath above him had him swelling with pride at reducing his older, and obviously more experienced Coach to inarticulate sounds. Rodney started moving, sucking Ronon's hard cock deep into his mouth, and pulling off. He cupped his tongue around the shaft, and groaned when Ronon's fingers fisted in his hair. A gruff whisper, "Deeper, god, McKay," and Rodney sucked him down deep into his throat. It hurt a little, something so large and foreign down his throat, but he felt Ronon's knees buckle, and the pain was worth the pleasure of knowing _he_ did that. He sucked harder, going all the way down on the shaft to swallow the head of Ronon's dick. Ronon jerked forward, choking him a bit, then let out a low, shaky moan and tugged on Rodney's hair.

"Gonna come, if you keep doing that, boy."

Rodney gave one last long suck as he pulled off his Coach's cock, and wrapped his fingers around the hot member. Ronon sucked a breath between clenched teeth and leaned over to kiss him hard, tongue fighting its way into McKay's mouth and sliding over the younger boy's tongue and teeth.

Rodney, young and inexperienced, just opened to him completely, giving as good as he got, not thinking about caution, or hiding or even protecting himself. He'd been wanting this for as long as Ronon Dex had been coaching him. From the first moment Rodney had seen him, he'd wanted Ronon. Rodney kissed him like he'd never get the chance again; he let everything he felt and wanted bleed into the kiss, not giving a damn about discretion.

After several moments with both of them lost in the heated carnality of the kiss, abruptly, Ronon pulled away, panting. "Turn around," he growled, eyes dark with lust. Rodney swallowed, nervous again, but wanting so much he couldn't even articulate it. He turned around.

Ronon lifted his hands and placed them on the cold steel door. "Don't fuckin' move, McKay."

McKay could only nod, taking a deep breath before muttering, "Yes, sir."

There was a slap of bare feet on the floor as Ronon withdrew.

"Spread your legs." he said, some distance away. Rodney heard a metal scraping against metal and Ronon rifling through the contents of some drawer. The sound of paper tearing and latex popping smooth had Rodney forgetting Ronon's order not to fucking move. He started to turn around, then footsteps padded softly on the tile floor again and Ronon smacked his bare ass hard. He yelped.

"I thought I told you to spread your legs."

"Sorry, sir," McKay said, wincing a bit at the stinging on his ass.

"You don't know what it does to me when you call me sir, do you?" Ronon growled in his ear.

"No, sir."

"Drives me fuckin' crazy, McKay."

McKay heard the pop of a cap, and the sick squirt of thick liquid coming out of a tube, then his Coach's fingers were trailing over the cleft of his ass, pushing between his cheeks, searching. "Ever done this before, McKay?"

"Oh, god." The thought had never even crossed Rodney's 18 year old mind. "No, sir."

Ronon's fingers found Rodney's hole and teased around it, spreading the slick around it, before gently probing inside. "It's gonna hurt."

"Oh, please," he whispered, pushing back, inexplicably craving more of the single digit inside him.

Ronon pushed more of his finger inside. "You trust me?"

Rodney could only nod, his breath stolen by pain bordering so close to ecstasy.

"Good boy." Ronon said, and inserted a second finger, pleased with the long sobbing hiss of breath Rodney let out. "Told you."

Oh god, it hurt so bad, but he wanted more, knew it had to be better. "It's good," Rodney said, lying through clenched teeth.

"It gets better," Ronon said, lips whispering against Rodney's ear, tongue sliding out to lick the sweat at Rodney's hairline. Rodney shivered at the slick sensation, and groaned low and long as Ronon slid in a third finger and twisted them all around, seeking out Rodney's prostate.

When Ronon found that soft, exquisite place inside him, the one Rodney never even fathomed could be in him, Rodney moaned again, "Oh, god, Coach, please," and rolled his hips back, trying to fuck himself on Ronon's strong thick fingers.

Ronon grinned and chuckled, a feral, confident sound. "See?"

Rodney worked himself back and forth on Ronon's fingers, twisting his hips, trying to experience that same flash of intensity. When he couldn't get it, he pounded his fist on the door and begged, "Please Coach, fuck me, oh god, I need it, please."

Ronon spread his fingers and pulled out of Rodney's ass. He grabbed Rodney's wrists, capturing them both in one of his giant hands. "Stop bangin', McKay," he said, then slicked his cock with the lube. "Gonna fuck you," he said, "Don't worry," and lined himself up, his cock hot and eager against Rodney's well prepared and twitching hole.

"Oh yeah," he moaned, feeling Ronon's cock slide inside him. He spread his legs a little more, arching his back for a better angle. Ronon placed a hand on the small of his back, "Be still, McKay."

Rodney stopped moving, shuddering under the intensity of holding still. Then Ronon slid slowly out of him, and Rodney nearly whimpered with the bereft feeling. "Coach, please," he started only to grunt in satisfaction with Ronon slid back into him. "So, good."

Ronon groaned, "Yeah, so tight, God you're so tight." He circled his hips, angling himself to push against Rodney's prostate. "Feel that, McKay?"

"Again, Coach, please."

"Oh, yeah." Ronon slid out again and back in, harder and faster, grunting when Rodney flinched around him. He pulled them away from the door until Rodney was bent in half, hands still palm-flat on the cold steel. Rodney's body clenched around him and Ronon started thrusting in and out, not taking any care now, just battering inside Rodney's hot young body. Rodney groaned, begging, "Fuck me, Coach, harder, oh, god, yeah, right there."

Rodney felt his body start to tense, orgasm pooling at the base of his spine, a scary unfamiliar feeling with someone so large and thick inside him. He was going to come fast with the way Ronon was fucking him. Hard and brutal and hitting his prostate with every other thrust.

Rodney's dick was hard and leaking, aching to be touched and stroked, so he reached down to take himself in hand, but was smacked hard again on his ass.

"Hands. Door." Ronon grunted between thrusts, and reached his own hand around Rodney's hips to take hold of his cock, stripping it, squeezing and stroking in tandem with his thrusts.

Rodney couldn't hold on. The feel of Ronon's callused palm stroking his cock up and down and squeezing him tight was too much, and his young body convulsed in orgasm, folding in on itself. He groaned loud and hard, hearing his hot sticky spend drip onto the floor.

Ronon, caught in the contractions of Rodney's body, thrust several more times until his body jerked tight and tense as he shuddered his own release. "Ohh, sweet..fuckin'... oh, god, McKay," he moaned, as the last of his orgasm was wrenched from him. He shivered and pulled out, laying a kiss on the sweat-slick skin of Rodney's back.

Rodney, naked and shivering in post coital lassitude, heard the plop of something wet in the trash can, and turned his head. "What was..?"

Ronon shook his head. "Condom," he said and leaned his naked form against the desk.

Rodney sucked in a few breaths and blinked, trying to clear his head. He realized he was still bent over, hands flat on the door. "Can I stand up now, sir?"

Ronon took a deep breath. "Yeah. Don't get dressed. I want to look at you."

McKay blushed, but agreed. "Yes, sir," he said, nervous smile curving his lips. He leaned against the cool metal door.

Ronon chuckled. "Now you're doin' it on purpose."

Rodney kept his eyes down, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "No, sir," he said, and let his hands drift down the length of his torso.

Ronon growled, and Rodney looked up at him, eyes heavy, body totally sated. "What?" he asked.

Ronon stalked back over to him, let his hands follow Rodney's down the smooth white skin. Feral green eyes met sky blue ones. "Smartass," Ronon muttered, and closed the distance between their mouths, blocking Rodney's answering grin.

  
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